


Forbidden Nectar

by bedwyrssong



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alcohol, Champagne, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedwyrssong/pseuds/bedwyrssong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Kent, trying to lose Alfred when the fair comes into town, runs into Mr. Barrow in a back alley. They share a bottle of champagne and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Nectar

**Author's Note:**

> Written for flippyspoon's Thommy playing card challenge on Tumblr.

"What the bloody hell do you want with that kid stuff?" Alfred asked, screwing his nose up as Jimmy approached the booth. It was manned by an elderly couple in tattered clothes who were selling little stuffed horses, elephants, and dogs, made of bright but no less tattered fabric.

The grumbling ginger giant had been trailing after him all evening, and Jimmy was trying to shake him by being as dull as humanly possible.

"I’m goin’ to buy a teddy bear," Jimmy said.

"A  _teddy_   _bear_?”

The mixture of derision and boredom in his voice gave Jimmy hope. ”For Ivy,” he added.

Alfred’s face went red, crimson as his hair. “I’ll get her somethin’ a million times better.”

He set off at a trot, mumbling and rifling through his pockets.

Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. This was what a fair was supposed to be, freedom, complete abandonment, an escape from hum-drum everyday life, and those things were best enjoyed alone—certainly without Alfred. Maybe Jimmy might feel differently about the alone bit if there was anybody he wanted to pal about with, but he didn’t have any chums, except perhaps Mr Barrow.  _Stop, Jimmy_. Best not to think about Mr Barrow when he wasn’t around. Hard enough to concentrate when he was.

It was then that he noticed the old lady in the booth looking at him expectantly, her skin crinkling into kind little lines around her eyes and mouth.

"A teddy bear, did you say?" she asked, poking through the piles of misshapen animals. "I think I have just the thing. Here, this’ll bring a smile to your lady-love's face."

She pulled out a small bear in blotchy brown velvet and some kind of fur, with one ear significantly larger than the other. Just the thing for Jimmy’s pretend lady-love.

Jimmy glanced at the woman’s tattered clothes and reached into his pocket. Never let it be said that Jimmy Kent did not have a soft heart beneath his manly exterior, that he didn’t come to the aid of women in their time of need and all that rot. He asked the price, handed over the coins, and took the bear.

Trudging past the rows of stalls, Jimmy searched for some child to foist the animal upon, but such was his bloody luck, he couldn’t see children anywhere.  _What’s the matter with grown-ups these days, not lettin’ their kids stay late at the fair, especially on the week-end?_

Instead, up ahead, he saw a trio of figures advancing towards him: Alfred, Mr Molesley, and Mr Carson. If they caught him with a teddy bear he’d never hear the end of it. Or worse, he’d have to give it to Ivy after all. There had been misunderstandings enough on that front.

He ducked into an alley. And there—inevitably, Jimmy felt—was Mr Barrow, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette.

Jimmy halted, gasping for breath.

“‘Ello, Jimmy,” the underbutler said. “Somethin’ the matter?”

"Uh. No. Nothin’."

"Stay a while?"

"Sure."

"We’re quite a pair of nobodys, hiding in an alley during a fair."

Jimmy glanced around. “Yer not … meeting anyone here, are you?” He didn’t know why the thought had popped into his head, or why his heart had started pounding faster. He supposed this was the kind of place men like Thomas met to—well, to do whatever it was they did.

"Nope. All on my lonesomes. You?"

"The same. I was … actually avoiding someone."

Thomas nodded at the bear, which Jimmy still had tucked under his arm. “Then that isn’t for our little miss Ivy?”

"No," he said, blushing.

"I got me something too." He lifted up a slim paper bag. "Some more adult entertainment. What do you say we sample some?”

"I’m game, I guess."

"Not out here, though," Thomas said, glancing around. He nodded at a door a little way down the alley. "In there."

The door was unlocked, and inside was what appeared to be a small storeroom, now empty. There were bare shelves lining the wall, a nondescript desk, or table—Jimmy wasn’t exactly sure what to call it—but nothing in the way of chairs or stools. Dust and chalky dirt lined the floor. There were windows mounted high on the walls, so that they let in a small scattering of moonlight but provided no view of the street.

"How’d you know this place?" he asked Thomas.

The older man smiled and set the paper bag down on the table. “I used to use it for a small commercial venture. Now I just keep it as a place to get away.” He drew a bottle out from the bag.

"Wine?’ Jimmy asked.

"Champagne."

Jimmy licked his lips. He hadn’t tasted any since he left Lady Anstruther's employ.

"Care to do the honors?"

"Well—but we haven’t any glasses."

"Straight from the bottle."

Jimmy smiled, excited. How like Thomas, to buy a bottle of the aristos’ favorite drink and then consume it in the least aristocratic way possible. How like Jimmy himself, for that matter. ”You go ahead, Mr Barrow.”

Holding the bottle in one hand, Thomas ran his thumb along its neck, the blunt end of his nail against the glass making a shrill keening noise. Just as his finger reached the tip of the bottle, it tipped, flying off the table and sending the cork across the room.

Thomas caught the bottle before it crashed to the floor, but with all the jostling the champagne was spewing out at an alarming rate. Quickly he raised it above his head and aimed the fizzling stream of liquid at his mouth, lapping at the corners of his mouth, his chin, his upper lip so that he didn’t miss a drip. Well—not quite. A little of the champagne dribbled down his neck, pooling at the collar line. Jimmy, his cock hardening in his trousers, imagined using his own mouth to clean up those extra drops.

_God, Jimmy, stop. What’re you doin’?_

He shook himself back into the present. Mr Barrow was there, smiling at him, friendly-like, and holding out the champagne, apparently unaware of the effect he had just had on Jimmy.

Once Thomas had looked a different way, not with mere friendship but with pure, unveiled desire. Oh, there had been affection in Thomas’s glances since Jimmy had told him that he couldn’t give him what he wanted, and admiration too, but they hadn’t been much different from the looks that Ivy gave him. And now Jimmy realized how much he’d missed it, now that he had found out what it was Thomas felt for him, and gone without.

Suddenly the man seemed much more important than the alcohol.

If Jimmy kissed him now, fully conscious, with no Alfred to barge in, no one would have to know. And if it did go around, he could say that he’d been drunk on Thomas’s champagne. Everyone knew now how poorly Jimmy held his liquor, and people did all kinds of stupid things while drunk. One kiss wouldn’t hurt anybody.

So he did it. Took two steps forward, and kissed Mr Barrow.

Thomas’s mouth was limp, his face a blur of surprise, and Jimmy took advantage of it, probing the other man’s mouth with his tongue as his teeth grazed his lips. But after a moment Thomas began kissing back, harder and more passionately than Jimmy thought anyone  _could_  kiss, and it was his turn to lose control. The teddy bear finally dropped down from under the crook of his arm, landing softly on the ground. Thomas reached out and set his half-empty bottle on a shelf, at the same time using his other arm to maneuver Downton’s first footman until he was pressed up against the table.

Lips locked, hips grinding against each other, they each began exploring the other’s body—cheeks, hair, chest, stomach, arse. Jimmy especially loved the feel of Thomas’s heaving bosom, of the sharp lines of his face, and of his hands resting on Jimmy’s buttocks.

Finally he broke the kiss and whispered breathlessly, “More champagne. You should have more champagne, Mr—Thomas.”

Thomas kissed him on the chin.

"I don’t need alcohol to enjoy you, silly boy."

"Yes. But I like to watch you drink it."

"If you insist."

He wrapped his pale, full lips around the bottle’s orifice, and began drinking.

"Untie your collar. Undo your buttons." Jimmy had meant to sound commanding, but he was so excited to bring his fantasy to life that it came out as rather a squeak.

"Say please."

"Please, Thomas!"

Mr Barrow smirked and did as Jimmy asked, then went back to the bottle. But his eyes never left the younger man’s face.

"Let some of it drip down. Please."

Again Thomas acquiesced.

Jimmy kissed his way up and down Thomas’s neck and upper chest, sucking at the warm pale skin with his lips as his tongue lapped up the champagne. Thomas shuddered and for a moment seemed to forget to swallow, gagging slightly on the bottle.

After what didn’t seem like nearly long enough, Thomas pulled him up to a sloppy, wet kiss. “The rest is yours, Jimmy, my lad.”

Sighing, Jimmy took the bottle from him, ran his tongue along the lip of it, then licked around the edge as he tilted it back and drank. He watched Thomas closely as he did so, judging the effect of his performance. It must have been satisfactory, because Thomas’s hand traveled down to his crotch, pulling at the fabric of his trousers.

After he’d drained the last drop, Thomas said, “Hand over, Jimmy.”

"What for? It’s empty."

"There’s yet one thing I can do with it."

Thomas put the tip of the bottle in his mouth, gradually working it further and further in until the entire neck had disappeared behind his lips.

Jimmy’s cock was straining against the fabric of his trousers now. Thomas glanced at him from out of the corner of his eye, smirking; he knew exactly what he was putting the young footman through.

"Thomas," Jimmy whimpered, " _please_.”

Thomas dropped to his knees as Jimmy fumbled at the fastenings of his trousers. His member sprung out, harder than Jimmy had ever remembered it being, and leaking pre-cum.

"Oh God," the blue-eyed beauty kneeling at his feet whispered. "I must’ve drunk myself to sleep. This is a bloody good dream."

"I’ve dreamed this every night," Jimmy admitted, and then couldn’t believe the words had actually left his lips.

With that Thomas took him in his mouth. Jimmy moaned. The man’s lips were heaven, far better than the rough pudgy ones of the girl who serviced him behind the church when he was 16, better even than his own lips, which he had used in this endeavor many a time. Thomas obviously had experience pleasuring others and being pleasured himself. Jimmy was so transported that half the time he didn’t know what the other man was doing to him, just that it was like nothing he had ever felt before.

"Uh, Thomas," he said after an embarrassingly short time.

"Yes?"

"I think … I’m going to come…."

"Then come, Jimmy."

"I’m … not ready. I want to make you feel … like you’ve made me feel."

"You don’t have to."

"But I  _want_  to.”

Thomas’s trousers were already half undone. As he sat down on the edge of the table, he let them drop to his knees. Jimmy hadn’t thought much before about what kind of cock he’d want his lover to have—it was the kind of thing he hadn’t allow himself to think about, except in his most secret dreams during the darkest time of the night—but if he had, he was pretty sure he would have wanted it to look like Thomas’s.

"You’re beautiful," he said. "Ev’ry inch of you."

"Likewise." Jimmy could tell that Thomas was trying his best not to be pushy or impatient, but his hips inched forward on the table as he said it.

Jimmy took a deep breath and took the man he worshiped inside his mouth. He gagged, and Thomas put his hands on his shoulders to steady him. Jimmy tried again, taking it easier this time, slowly working his way down Thomas’s shaft. Soon he had a regular rhythm going. Thomas grabbed hold of his hair, massaged his scalp, ran fingernails down the back of his neck. That only drove Jimmy wilder. He could feel the precum leaking again out of his own overripe erection. He started moving his lips faster and faster. Thomas winced a few times, which made Jimmy wish that he was better at this, but then a moan of pleasure followed and that reassured him.

"Now … now _I’m_ about to come, Jimmy."

"Could—could you come in my mouth?" He blushed.  _Absurd, blushing, Jimmy Kent, in a situation like what you’re in._ "I want to taste you."

Jimmy had barely got his lips back around Thomas when the other man’s hips buckled, and he thrust up, far to the back of Jimmy’s throat. He fought the urge not to gag. But then with a sigh Thomas relaxed, and a warm salty liquid filled Jimmy’s mouth. He swallowed, then pressed his lips and hard against Thomas’s shaft as he drew back, making sure he milked every last drop from it.  _Now you’re a part of me, more even than you were before_.

He stood, shaking. Thomas, a blissful smile on his face, looked him up and down, then settled his gaze on his crotch. “Looks like I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

"Actually…." Jimmy pursed. "Could I … I mean could you … could I  _spray_  it on you? Like the champagne?”

"Of course. Anything you want, my darling."

Thomas slid off the table and Jimmy took his place, kneeling on the edge while Thomas took a similar position on the ground. It only took a couple swift strokes of his hand and Jimmy’s seed was flying through the air, landing on Thomas’s outstretched tongue, his lips, his chin. The sight alone was enough to make him come more, yielding where he thought he had no more to give.

A moment later they were both on the ground, Jimmy in Thomas’s arms, their shirts rumpled, their trousers about their ankles, utterly spent and blissful.

“ _Christ_ ,” Thomas whispered, “I love you.”

"Don’t you think that’s a little premature, Mr Barrow?"

Thomas made a little growling noise at the back of his throat.  _He likes being called Mr afterwards._ Jimmy would remember that.

"It would be premature," Thomas said, "with anyone but you."

 


End file.
